Writer of Creative Nonfiction

Going Aloft, Chapter 23

In this chapter we are whisked away into the wildness of the Lucayan night by our new friend, Josh, a Canadian fellow schooner sailor we met at the boatyard in Freeport. There is drinking and merriment on this page, to be sure, but there is also something darker: the faint echo of prejudice, a leftover remnant of the colonial mentality which first brought strange visitors to this Arawak isle.

Chapter 23 might be the truest one I’ve yet written. It’s certainly a chapter that I’m proud of, perhaps even more than the others. It’s funny how these things happen: I had originally written it over a year ago, in a fit of creative passion, and had left it to sit and settle, given it time to ferment. Returning to it a year later, I discovered things which I hadn’t consciously intended to put in but which had happened on their own, subconsciously. It flowed and it sang; it was the closest I had ever come to capturing what life actually felt like- an exhilarating feeling for a creator.

Writing this book has taught me more than I ever thought there was to learn about how art happens, of how our minds can create meaningful things when we’re not even looking. This unintentional expression, the gift which lurks in all of us, is part of what makes humanity beautiful – all of humanity, regardless of color or gender or birthplace. As humans, we have much more in common than we have different. Art can teach us this lesson, and we must never forget it.